Fallout
by sweetvolcano
Summary: The war has come to an end and with Peeta gone, Katniss is scarred, mentally and physically. Peeta arrives home for the first time months after Katniss and his instinct tells him to check on her. What are Katniss' thoughts about the new Peeta, what are Peeta's thoughts about the new Katniss? This is their first meeting after the war, but before the epilogue. R&R :) ONE-SHOT


His eyes; they're different. Once shining, his blue orbs are now sunken with dark circles that are clearly visible through the dim light that surrounds him. Taking a cautious step into the house, his prosthetic buckles and he stumbles, catching himself at the last minute, on the back of a chair; a rocking chair. It's covered in dust and creaks, perhaps tiresomely, its purpose long gone and served. His chapped lips burn and he licks them, trying to soothe the pain, without success. He walks slowly, carefully to the other side of the rocking chair and is frozen at the sight before him.

Her eyes, haunted by the ghosts of her past, and scarred by life itself, land on him. He stands before her, almost taken back by her very presence. She wouldn't blame him. Her hair, once beautiful and cascading down her back, is now greasy and matted together. Her grip tightens on the arm of her mother's rocking chair as she lowers her head, in what can only be shame. She knew he would be arriving today. How could she not know; Haymitch has only been running around her house screaming the date, February 16, for the past three weeks, burning it into her head.

Katniss. She was there, right there, sitting in front of him. All those times on the train ride coming home, rehearsing what he would say to her, a complete waste; because he was lost. He had expected to see a few scars, probably faded to pink marks, but not this many and so fresh on her olive skin. He had expected her eyes to be a bit far-off, maybe distant but not empty; gone of the brilliant gray he used to catch flickers of during his years at school. He expected to see her flowing brown locks, that her loving sister had once so willing plaited, not this lump of gangly hair, with full patches missing. He had expected to see…well… Katniss.

Peeta. He stood before her just like he used to. She could almost conjure the image of his satiny blonde curls bouncing upon his head. They remained the same. She could remember his dry lips, and him, running his tongue over them so to appease their aridness. They remained the same. She could almost taste the lingering scent of cinnamon, dill, and brown sugar, melting her inside and out. They also remained the same. She recalled his hands; the hands of a baker: rough and callused, but how they could bring so much warmth and comfort at the same time. They remained the same. Nothing about him had changed. She had expected to see the rabid, mad man that had bruised her neck and ruthlessly called her what she truthfully was; not this gentle boy she had once caught glimpses of at school. She not expected to see…well…Peeta.

He was, for once, speechless. He clenched his jaw. This was not Katniss. It just couldn't be. This was a shell, a shell of the girl he had gazed at and cherished. A shell of the girl he had once trusted and given faith to. This was only a shell of the girl he had feed at her time of need. This was a shell of the girl he once knew; once loved. A sharp stinging sensation filled his back and tickled his spine. He shut his eyes and balled his hands, turning around so Katniss would not see the monster the Capitol had turned him into. He fought the shiny images coursing through his mind and stormed of the house, leaving Katniss alone, yet again.

She had made the boy with the bread speechless; and she thought that was impossible. He practically ran out on the mere sight of me, she thought. Tears burned at the back of her eyes as she fisted her hands. Her body began to shake and she let out a strangled whimper. She would show him. She would show him that she could take care of herself. However, setting aside the fire raging in the pit of her belly, she knew she missed him. She longed for him, not only at night, to ward away the nightmares, but also for company. She had missed the touch of his knee against hers when they'd sit together; he would draw and she would watch. She missed his stare, so full of tenderness and affection. She missed him…Peeta. So, she would show him. She would prove to him that she was still alive, not a shadow, not a reminder of grief, not a remembrance of sorrow, not the girl on fire. She would be Katniss, Katniss Everdeen, the girl who sang in front of the class in music, the one who'd pick dandelions for fun, the one who didn't have a care in the world. She'd do it for him. She would do it for Peeta.


End file.
